The American Revolution.-The following is
Lafayette's narrative of his service with the American army during
the Revolutionary War, from his Memoirs:

You
ask me at what period I first experienced my ardent love of liberty
and glory? I recollect no time of my life anterior to my enthusiasm
for anecdotes of glorious deeds, and to my projects of traveling
over the world to acquire fame. At eight years of age, my heart beat
when I heard of an hyena that had done some injury, and caused still
more alarm, in our neighborhood, and the hope of meeting it was the
object of all my walks. When I arrived at college, nothing ever
interrupted my studies, except my ardent wish of studying without
restraint. I never deserved to be chastised, but, in spite of my
usual gentleness, it would have been dangerous to have attempted to
do so; and I recollect with pleasure that, when I was to describe in
rhetoric a perfect courser, I sacrificed the hope of obtaining a
premium, and described the one who, on perceiving the whip, threw
down his rider. Republican anecdotes always delighted me; and, when
my new connections wished to obtain for me a place at Court, I did
not hesitate displeasing them to preserve my independence. I was in
that frame of mind when I first learned the troubles in America:
they only became thoroughly known in Europe in 1776, and the
memorable declaration of the 4th of July reached France at the close
of that same year.

The American Revolution: The last Struggle of
Liberty

After having crowned herself with laurels and
enriched herself with conquests, after having become mistress of all
seas, and after having insulted all nations, England had turned her
pride against her own colonies. North America had long been
displeasing to her: she wished to add new vexations to former
injuries, and to destroy the most sacred privileges. The Americans,
attached to the mother-country, contented themselves at first with
merely uttering complaints. They only accused the ministry, and the
whole nation rose up against them. They were termed insolent and
rebellious, and at length declared the enemies of their country:
thus did the obstinacy of the King, the violence of the ministers,
and the arrogance of the English nation oblige thirteen of their
colonies to render themselves independent. Such a glorious cause had
never before attracted the attention of mankind: it was the last
struggle of Liberty; and had she then been vanquished, neither hope
nor asylum would have remained for her. The oppressors and
op-pressed were to receive a powerful lesson; the great work was to
be accomplished, or the rights of humanity were to fall beneath its
ruin. The destiny of France and that of her rival were to be decided
at the same moment: England was to lose, with the new States, an
important commerce, of which she derived the sole advantage,
one-quarter of her subjects, who were constantly augmenting by a
rapid increase of population and by emigration from all parts of
Europe - in a word, more than half of the most beautiful portion of
the British territory. But, if she retained possession of her
thirteen colonies, all was ended for our West Indies, our
possessions in Asia and Africa, our maritime commerce, and
consequently our navy and our political existence.

Lafayette to Aid the Patriot Cause

(1776.) When I first learned the subject of this
quarrel, my heart espoused warmly the cause of liberty, and I
thought of nothing but of adding also the aid of my banner. Some
circumstances, which it would be needless to relate, had taught me
to expect only obstacles in this case from my own family: I
depended, therefore, solely upon myself; and I ventured to adopt for
a device on my arms these words, "Cur non?" that they might
equally serve as an encouragement to myself, and as a reply to
others. Silas Deane was then at Paris; but the ministers feared to
receive him, and his voice was overpowered by the louder accents of
Lord Stormont. He dispatched privately to America some oldarms,
which were of little use, and some young officers, who did but
little good, the whole directed by M. de Beaumarchais; and, when the
English ambassador spoke to our Court, it denied having sent any
cargoes, ordered those that were preparing to be discharged, and
dismissed from our ports all American privateers. While wishing to
address myself in a direct manner to Mr. Deane, I became the friend
of Kalb, a German in our employ, who was applying for service with
the insurgents (the expression in use at the time), and who became
my interpreter. He was the person sent by M. de Choiseul to examine
the English colonies; and on his return he received some money, but
never succeeded in obtaining an audience, so little did that
minister in reality think of the revolution whose retrograde
movements some persons have inscribed to him! When I presented to
Mr. Deane my boyish face (for I was scarcely nineteen years of age),
I spoke more of my ardor in the cause than of my experience; but I
dwelt much upon the effect my departure would excite in France, and
he signed our mutual agreement. The secrecy with which this
negotiation and my preparations were made appears almost a miracle:
family, friends, ministers, French spies and English spies, all were
kept completely in the dark as to my intentions. Among my discreet
confidants, I owe much to M. du Boismartin, secretary of the Count
de Broglie, and to the Count de Broglie himself, whose affectionate
heart, when all his efforts to turn me from this project had proved
in vain, entered into my views with even paternal tenderness.

Lafayette to Pay for his Expedition to the
Colonies

Preparations were making to send a vessel to
America, when very bad tidings arrived from thence. New York,
Long
Island, White Plains, Fort Washington, and the Jerseys had seen the
American forces successively destroyed by 33,000 Englishmen or
Germans. Three thousand Americans alone remained in arms, and these
were closely pursued by
General Howe. From that moment all the credit of the insurgents
vanished: to obtain a vessel for them was impossible. The envoys
themselves thought it right to express to me their own
discouragement, and persuade me to abandon my project. I called upon
Mr. Deane, and I thanked him for his frankness. "Until now, sir,"
said I, "you have only seen my ardor in your cause, and that may not
prove at present wholly useless. I shall purchase a ship to carry
out your officers. We must feel confidence in the future, and it is
especially in the hour of danger that I wish to share your fortune."
My project was received with approbation; but it was necessary
afterwards to find money, and to purchase and arm a vessel secretly:
all this was accomplished with the greatest dispatch.

The period was, however, approaching, which had
been long fixed, for my taking a journey to England. I could not
refuse to go without risking the discovery of my secret, and by
consenting to take this journey I knew I could better conceal my
preparations for a greater one. This last measure was also thought
most expedient by MM. Franklin and Deane, for the doctor himself was
then in France; and, although I did not venture to go to his home,
for fear of being seen, I corresponded with him through M.
Carmichael, an American less generally known. I arrived in London
with M. de Poix; and I first paid my respects to Bancroft, the
American, and afterwards to his British Majesty. A youth of nineteen
maybe, perhaps too fond of playing a trick upon the King he is going
to fight with, of dancing at the house of Lord Germain, minister for
the English colonies, and at the house of Lord Rawdon, who had just
returned from New York, and
of seeing at the opera that
Clinton whom he was
afterwards to meet at Monmouth. But, while I concealed my
intentions, I openly avowed my sentiments. I often defended the
Americans; I rejoiced at their
success at Trenton; and my spirit of
opposition obtained for me an invitation to breakfast with Lord Shelbourne. I refused the offers made me to visit the seaports, the
vessels fitting out against the rebels, and everything that might be
construed into an abuse of confidence. At the end of three weeks,
when it became necessary for me to return home, while refusing my
uncle, the ambassador, to accompany him to Court, I confided to him
my strong desire to take a trip to Paris. He proposed saying that I
was ill during my absence. I should not have made use of this
stratagem myself, but I did not object to his doing so.

After having suffered dreadfully in the channel,
and being reminded, as a consolation, how very short the voyage
would be, I arrived at M. de Kalb's house in Paris, concealed myself
three days at Chaillot, saw a few of my friends and some Americans,
and set out for Bordeaux, where I was for some time unexpectedly
delayed. I took advantage of that delay to send to Paris, from
whence the intelligence I received was by no means encouraging; but,
as my messenger was followed on the road by one from the government,
I lost not a moment in setting sail, and the orders of my sovereign
were only able to overtake me at Passage, a Spanish port, at which
we stopped on our way. The letters from my own family were extremely
violent, and those from the government were peremptory. I was
forbidden to proceed to the American continent under the penalty of
disobedience; I was enjoined to repair instantly to Marseilles, and
await there further orders.* A sufficient number of commentaries
were not wanting upon the consequences of such an anathema, the laws
of the state, and the power and displeasure of the government; but
the grief of his wife, who was pregnant, and the thoughts of his
family and friends, had far more effect upon M. de Lafayette. As his
vessel could no longer be stopped, he returned to Bordeaux to enter
into a justification of his own conduct; and, in a declaration to M.
de Fumel, he took upon himself all the consequences of his present
evasion. As the Court did not deign to relax in its determination,
he wrote to M. de Maurepas that that silence was a tacit consent,
and his own departure took place soon after that joking dispatch.
After having set out on the road to Marseilles, he retraced his
steps, and, disguised as a courier, he had almost escaped all
danger, when, at Saint Jean de Luz, a young girl recognized him; but
a sign from him silenced her, and her adroit fidelity turned away
all suspicion. It was thus that M. de Lafayette rejoined his ship,
April 26, 1777; and on that same day, after six months' anxiety and
labor, he set sail for the American continent.

*
Lafayette here changes his narrative from the first to the
third person.

(1777) As soon as
M. de Lafayette had recovered
from the effects of sea-sickness, he studied the language and trade
he was adopting. A heavy ship, two bad cannon, and some guns could
not have escaped from the smallest privateer. In his present
situation, he resolved rather to blow up the vessel than to
surrender. He concerted measures to achieve this end with a brave
Dutchman named Bedaulx, whose sole alternative, if taken, would have
been the gibbet. The captain insisted upon stopping at the islands;
but government orders would have been found there, and he followed a
direct course, less from choice than from compulsion. At 40 leagues
from shore they were met by a small vessel. The captain turned pale,
but the crew were attached to M. de Lafayette, and the officers were
numerous: they made a show of resistance. It turned out,
fortunately, to be an American ship, whom they vainly endeavored to
keep up with; but scarcely had the former lost sight of M. de
Lafayette's vessel, when it fell in with two English frigates - and
this is not the only time when the elements seemed bent on opposing
M. de Lafayette, as if with the intention of saving him. After
having encountered for seven weeks various perils and chances, he
arrived at Georgetown, in Carolina. Ascending the river in a canoe,
his foot touched at length the American soil; and he swore that he
would conquer or perish in that cause. Landing at midnight at Major Huger's house, he found a vessel sailing for France, which appeared
only waiting for his letters. Several of the officers landed, others
remained on board, and all hastened to proceed to Charlestown.

Lafayette Travels to Philadelphia

This beautiful city is worthy of its
inhabitants; and everything there announced not only comfort, but
even luxury. Without knowing much of M. de Lafayette, the Generals
Howe, Moultrie, and Gulden received him with the utmost kindness and
attention. The new works were shown him, and also that battery which
Moultrie afterwards defended so extremely well, and which the
English appear, we must acknowledge, to have seized the only
possible means of destroying. Several adventurers, the refuse of the
islands, endeavored vainly to unite themselves to M. de Lafayette,
and to infuse into his mind their own feelings and prejudices.
Having procured horses, he set out with six officers for
Philadelphia. His vessel had arrived; but it was no longer protected
by fortune, and on its return home it was lost on the bar of
Charlestown. To repair to the Congress of the United States, M. de
Lafayette rode nearly 900 miles on horseback. Before reaching the
capital of Pennsylvania, he was obliged to travel through the two
Carolinas, Virginia,
Maryland, and
Delaware. While studying the
language and customs of the inhabitants, he observed also new
productions of nature and new methods of cultivation. Vast forests
and immense rivers combine to give to that country an appearance of
youth and majesty. After a fatiguing journey of one month he beheld
at length that Philadelphia so well known in the present day, and
whose future grandeur Penn
appeared to designate when he laid the first stone of its
foundation.

After having accomplished his noble manoeuvres at
Trenton and Princeton,
General Washington had remained in his camp at Middlebrook. The
English, finding themselves frustrated in their first hopes,
combined to make a decisive campaign.
Burgoyne was already advancing
with 10,000 men, preceded by his proclamation and his savages.
Ticonderoga, a
famous stand of arms, was abandoned by Saint-Clair. He drew upon
himself much public odium by this deed, but he saved the only corps
whom the militia could rally round. While the generals were busied
assembling that militia, the Congress recalled them, sent
Gates in their place, and
used all possible means to support him. At that same time the great
English army, of about 18,000 men, had sailed from
New York, and the two Howes
were uniting their forces for a secret enterprise.
Rhode Island was occupied
by an hostile corps; and
General Clinton, who had remained at New York, was there
preparing for an expedition. To be able to withstand so many various
blows, General Washington, leaving
Putnam on the North
River, crossed over the Delaware, and encamped, with 11,000 men,
within reach of Philadelphia.

Lafayette Joins the Continental Army

It was under these circumstances that M. de
Lafayette first arrived in America; but the moment, although
important to the common cause, was peculiarly unfavorable to
strangers. The Americans were displeased with the pretensions, and
disgusted with the conduct, of many Frenchmen. The imprudent
selections they had in some cases made, the extreme boldness of some
foreign adventurers, the jealousy of the army, and strong national
prejudices, all contributed to confound disinterested zeal with
private ambition, and talents with quackery. Supported by the
promises which had been given by Mr. Deane, a numerous band of
foreigners besieged the Congress. Their chief was a clever but very
imprudent man; and, although a good officer, his excessive vanity
amounted almost to madness. With M. de Lafayette, Mr. Deane had sent
out a fresh detachment; and every day such crowds arrived that the
Congress had finally adopted the plan of not listening to any
stranger. The coldness with which M. de Lafayette was received might
have been taken as a dismissal; but, without appearing disconcerted
by the manner in which the deputies addressed him, he entreated them
to return to Congress, and read the following note:

"After the sacrifices I have made, I have the
right to exact two favors: one is, to serve at my own expense; the
other is, to serve at first as volunteer."

The style, to which they were so little
accustomed, awakened their attention: the despatches from the envoys
were read over; and, in a very flattering resolution, the rank of
major-general was granted to M. de Lafayette. Among the various
officers who accompanied him, several were strangers to him. He was
interested, however, for them all; and to those whose services were
not accepted an indemnity for their trouble was granted. Some months
afterwards M. drowned himself in the Schuylkill, and the loss of
that impetuous and imprudent man was perhaps a fortunate
circumstance.

Lafayette Meets George Washington

The two Howes having appeared before the capes of
the Delaware, General
Washington came to Philadelphia, and M. de Lafayette beheld for
the first time that great man. Although he was surrounded by
officers and citizens, it was impossible to mistake for a moment his
majestic figure and deportment; nor was he less distinguished by the
noble affability of his manner. M. de Lafayette accompanied him in
his examination of the fortifications. Invited by the general to
establish himself in his house, he looked upon it from that moment
as his own: with this perfect ease and simplicity was formed the tie
that united two friends, whose confidence and attachments were to be
cemented by the strongest interests of humanity.

The American army, stationed some miles from
Philadelphia, was waiting until the movements of the hostile army
should be decided: the general himself reviewed the troops. M. de
Lafayette arrived there the same day. About 11,000 men, ill armed,
and still worse clothed, presented a strange spectacle to the eye of
the young Frenchman. Their clothes were particolored, and many of
them were almost naked. The best clad wore hunting shirts, large
gray linen coats which were much used in Carolina. As to their
military tactics, it will be sufficient to say that, for a regiment
ranged in order of battle to move forward on the right of its line,
it was necessary for the left to make a continued countermarch. They
were always arranged in two lines, the smallest men in the first
line: no other distinction as to height was ever observed. In spite
of these disadvantages, the soldiers were fine, and the officers
zealous; virtue stood in place of science, and each day added both
to experience and discipline. Lord Stirling, more courageous than
judicious, another general, who was often intoxicated, and
Greene, whose
talents were only then known to his immediate friends, commanded as
majors-general. General Knox,
who had changed the profession of bookseller to that of artillery
officer, was there also, and had himself formed other officers, and
created an artillery. "We must feel embarrassed," said General
Washington, on his arrival, "to exhibit ourselves before an officer
who has just quitted French troops." " It is to learn, and not to
teach, that I come hither," replied M. de Lafayette; and that modest
tone, which was not common in Europeans, produced a very good
effect.

Wilmington

After having menaced the Delaware, the English
fleet again disappeared, and during some days the Americans amused
themselves by making jokes at its expense. These jokes, however,
ceased when it reappeared in the Chesapeake; and, in order to
approach it more closely during the disembarkation, the patriot army
crossed through the town. Their heads covered with green branches,
and marching to the sound of drums and fifes, these soldiers, in
spite of their state of nudity, offered an agreeable spectacle to
the eyes of all the citizens. General Washington was marching at
their head, and M. de Lafayette was by his side. The army stationed
itself upon the heights of Wilmington, and that of the enemy landed
in the Elk River, at the bottom of Chesapeake Bay. The very day they
landed, General Washington exposed himself to danger in the most
imprudent manner. After having reconnoitred for a long time the
enemy's position, he was overtaken by a storm during a very dark
night, entered a farm-house close to the hostile army, and, from a
reluctance to change his own opinion, remained there with
General Greene,
M. de Lafayette, and their aide-de-camp; but, when at daybreak he
quitted the farm, he acknowledged that any one traitor might have
caused his ruin. Some days later
Sullivan's division joined the
army, which augmented it in all to 13,000 men. This Major-General
Sullivan made a good beginning, but a bad ending, in an intended
surprise on Staten Island.

If, by making too extensive a plan of attack, the
English committed a great error, it must also be acknowledged that
the Americans were not irreproachable in their manner of defence.
Burgoyne, leading his army, with their heads bent upon the ground,
into woods from whence he could not extricate them, dragged on, upon
a single road, his numerous cannon and rich military equipages.
Certain of not being attacked from behind, the Americans could
dispute every step they took; this kind of warfare attracted the
militia, and Gates improved
each day in strength. Every tree sheltered a skilful rifleman; and
the resources offered by military tactics, and the talents even of
their chiefs, had become useless to the English. The corps left in
New York could, it is true, laugh at the corps of Putnam, but it was
too feeble to succor Burgoyne; and, instead of being able to secure
his triumph, its own fate was even dependent upon his. During that
time Howe was only thinking of Philadelphia, and it was at the
expense of the northern expedition that he was repairing thither by
an enormous circuit. But, on the other side, why were the English
permitted to land so tranquilly? Why was the moment allowed to pass
when their army was divided by the river Elk? Why in the South were
so many false movements and so much hesitation displayed? Because
the Americans had hitherto had combats, but not battles; because,
instead of harassing an army and disputing hollows, they were
obliged to protect an open city, and manoeuvre in a plain, close to
an hostile army, who, by attacking them from behind, might
completely ruin them. General Washington, had he followed the advice
of the people, would have enclosed his army in a city, and thus have
intrusted to one hazard the fate of America; but, while refusing to
commit such an act of folly, he was obliged to make some sacrifice,
and gratify the nation by a battle. Europe even expected it; and,
although he had been created a dictator for six months, the general
thought he ought to submit everything to the orders of Congress and
to the deliberations of a council of war.

Brandywine

After having advanced as far as Wilmington, the
general had detached 1,000 men under
Maxwell, the most ancient
brigadier in the army. At the first march of the English, he was
beaten by their advance guard near Christiana Bridge. During that
time the army took but an indifferent station at Newport. They then
removed a little south, waited two days for the enemy, and at the
moment when these were marching upon their right wing, a nocturnal
council of war decided that the army was to proceed to the
Brandywine. The stream bearing that name covered its front. The ford
called Chad's Ford, placed nearly in the centre, was defended by
batteries. It was in that hardly examined station that, in obedience
to a letter from Congress, the Americans awaited the battle. The
evening of September 10 Howe advanced in two columns, and, by a very
fine movement, the left column (about 8,000 men under Lord
Cornwallis, with the grenadiers and guards) directed themselves
towards the fords of Birmingham, 3 miles on our right: the other
column continued its road, and about nine o'clock in the morning it
appeared on the other side of the stream. The enemy was so near the
skirts of the wood that it was impossible to judge of his force:
some time was lost in a mutual cannonading. General Washington
walked along his two lines, and was received with acclamations which
seemed to promise him success. The intelligence that was received of
the movements of Cornwallis was both confused and contradictory.
Owing to the conformity of name between two roads that were of equal
length and parallel to each other, the best officers were mistaken
in their reports. The only musket-shots that had been fired were
from Maxwell, who killed several of the enemy, but was driven back
upon the left of the American army, across a ford by which he had
before advanced. Three thousand militia had been added to the army,
but they were placed in the rear to guard some still more distant
militia, and took no part themselves in the action. Such was the
situation of the troops when they learned the march of Lord
Cornwallis towards the scarcely known fords of Birmingham: they then
detached three divisions, forming about 5,000 men, under the
Generals Sullivan, Stirling, and Stephen. M. de Lafayette, as
volunteer, had always accompanied the general. The left wing
remaining in a state of tranquillity, and the right appearing fated
to receive all the heavy blows, he obtained permission to join
Sullivan. At his arrival, which seemed to inspirit the troops, he
found that, the enemy having crossed the ford, the corps of Sullivan
had scarcely had time to form itself on a line in front of a thinly
wooded forest. A few moments after, Lord Cornwallis formed in the
finest order. Advancing across the plain, his first line opened a
brisk fire of musketry and artillery. The Americans returned the
fire, and did much injury to the enemy; but, their right and left
wings having given way, the generals and several officers joined the
central division, in which were M. de Lafayette and Stirling, and of
which 800 men were commanded in a most brilliant manner by
Conway,
an Irishman, in the service of France. By separating that division
from its two wings, and advancing through an open plain, in which
they lost many men, the enemy united all his fire upon the centre:
the confusion became extreme; and it was while M. de Lafayette was
rallying the troops that a ball passed through his leg. At that
moment all those remaining on the field gave way. M. de Lafayette
was indebted to Gimat, his aide-de-camp, for the happiness of
getting upon his horse. General Washington arrived from a distance
with fresh troops. M. de Lafayette was preparing to join him, when
loss of blood obliged him to stop and have his wound bandaged: he
was even very near being taken. Fugitives, cannon, and baggage now
crowded without order into the road leading to Chester. The general
employed the remaining daylight in checking the enemy: some
regiments behaved extremely well, but the disorder was complete.
During that time the ford of Chad was forced, the cannon taken, and
the Chester road became the common retreat of the whole army. In the
midst of that dreadful confusion, and during the darkness of the
night, it was impossible to recover; but at Chester, 12 miles from
the field of battle, they met with a bridge which it was necessary
to cross. M. de Lafayette occupied himself in arresting the
fugitives. Some degree of order was re-established; the generals and
the commander-in-chief arrived; and he had leisure to have his wound
dressed.

It was thus, at 26 miles from Philadelphia, that
the fate of that town was decided (11th September, 1777). The
inhabitants had heard every cannon that was fired there. The two
parties, assembled in two distinct bands in all the squares and
public places, had awaited the event in silence. The last courier at
length arrived, and the friends of liberty were thrown into
consternation. The Americans had lost from 1,000 to 1,200 men.
Howe's army was composed of about 12,000 men. Their losses had been
so considerable that their surgeons, and those in the country, were
found insufficient; and they requested the American army to supply
them with some for their prisoners. If the enemy had marched to
Derby, the army would have been cut up and destroyed. They lost an
all - important night; and this was perhaps their greatest fault
during a war in which they committed so many errors.

M. de Lafayette, having been conveyed by water to
Philadelphia, was carefully attended to by the citizens, who were
all interested in his situation and extreme youth. That same evening
the Congress determined to quit the city. A vast number of the
inhabitants deserted their own hearths. Whole families, abandoning
their possessions, and uncertain of the future, took refuge in the
mountains. M. de Lafayette was carried to Bristol in a boat; he
there saw the fugitive Congress, who only assembled again on the
other side of the Susquehanna. He was himself conducted to
Bethlehem, a Moravian establishment, where the mild religion of the
brotherhood, the community of fortune, education, and interests,
amongst that large and simple family, formed a striking contrast to
scenes of blood and the convulsions occasioned by a civil war.

After the Brandywine defeat the two armies
manoeuvred along the banks of the Schuylkill. General Washington
still remained on a height above the enemy, and completely out of
his reach; nor had they again an opportunity of cutting him off.
Waine, an American brigadier, was detached to observe the English;
but, being surprised during the night, near the White Horse, by
General Grey, he lost there the greatest part of his corps. At
length Howe crossed the Schuylkill at Swede's Ford, and
Lord Cornwallis
entered Philadelphia.

In spite of the
declaration
of independence of the new States, everything there bore the
appearance of a civil war. The names of Whig and Tory distinguished
the republicans and royalists; the English army was still called the
regular troops; the British sovereign was always designated by the
name of the King. Provinces, towns, and families were divided by the
violence of party spirit: brothers, officers in the two opposing
armies, meeting by chance in their father's house, have seized their
arms to fight with each other. Whilst, in all the rancor of their
pride, the English committed horrible acts of license and cruelty,
whilst discipline dragged in her train those venal Germans who knew
only how to kill, burn, and pillage, in that same army were seen
regiments of Americans, who, trampling under foot their brethren,
assisted in enslaving their wasted country. Each canton contained a
still greater number whose sole object was to injure the friends of
liberty and give information to those of despotism. To these
inveterate Tories must be added the number of those whom fear,
private interest, or religion, rendered adverse to the war. If the
Presbyterians, the children of Cromwell and Fairfax, detested
royalty, the Lutherans, who had sprung from it, were divided among
themselves. The Quakers hated
slaughter, but served willingly as guides to the royal troops.
Insurrections were by no means uncommon: near the enemy's stations,
farmers often shot each other; robbers were even encouraged. The
republican chiefs were exposed to great dangers when they travelled
through the country. It was always necessary for them to declare
that they should pass the night in one house, then take possession
of another, barricade themselves in it, and only sleep with their
arms by their side. In the midst of these troubles, M. de Lafayette
was no longer considered as a stranger: never was any adoption more
complete than his own; and whilst, in the councils of war, he
trembled when he considered that his voice (at twenty years of age)
might decide the fate of two worlds, he was also initiated in those
deliberations in which, by reassuring the Whigs, intimidating the
Tories, supporting an ideal money, and redoubling their firmness in
the hour of adversity, the American chiefs conducted that revolution
through so many obstacles.

[Here follow
accounts of Lafayette's convalescence at Bethlehem and his
success at Gloucester, of Gates's campaign, in the north, and
the establishment of the melancholy headquarters at
Valley
Forge.]

Notwithstanding the success in the north, the
situation of the Americans had never been more critical than at the
present moment. A paper money, without any certain foundation, and
unmixed with any specie, was both counterfeited by the enemy and
discredited by their partisans. They feared to establish taxes, and
had still less the power of levying them. The people, who had risen
against the taxation of England, were astonished at paying still
heavier taxes now; and the government was without any power to
enforce them. On the other side, New York and Philadelphia were
overstocked with gold and various merchandises: the threatened
penalty of death could not stop a communication that was but too
easy. To refuse the payment of taxes, to depreciate the paper
currency, and feed the enemy, was a certain method of attaining
wealth: privations and misery were only experienced by good
citizens. Each proclamation of the English was supported by their
seductions, their riches, and the intrigues of the Tories. Whilst a
numerous garrison lived sumptuously at New York, some hundreds of
men, ill-clothed and ill-fed, wandered upon the shores of the
Hudson. The army of Philadelphia, freshly recruited from Europe,
abundantly supplied with everything they could require, consisted of
18,000 men: that of Valley Forge was successively reduced to 5,000
men; and two marches on the fine Lancaster road (on which road also
was a chain of magazines), by establishing the English in the rear
of their right flank, would have rendered their position untenable,
from which, however, they had no means of retiring. The unfortunate
soldiers were in want of everything. They had neither coats, hats,
shirts, nor shoes: their feet and legs froze till they became black,
and it was often necessary to amputate them. From want of money,
they could neither obtain provisions nor any means of transport: the
colonels were often reduced to two rations, and sometimes even to
one. The army frequently remained whole days without provisions, and
the patient endurance of both soldiers and officers was a miracle
which each moment served to renew. But the sight of their misery
prevented new engagements: it was almost impossible to levy
recruits; it was easy to desert into the interior of the country.
The sacred fire of liberty was not extinguished, it is true, and the
majority of the citizens detested British tyranny; but the triumph
of the north and the tranquillity of the south had lulled to sleep
two-thirds of the continent. The remaining part was harassed by two
armies; and throughout this revolution the greatest difficulty was
that, in order to conceal misfortunes from the enemy, it was
necessary to conceal them from the nation also; that, by awakening
the one, information was likewise given to the other; and that fatal
blows would have been struck upon the weakest points before
democratic tardiness could have been roused to support them. It was
from this cause that during the whole war the real force of the army
was always kept a profound secret. Even Congress was not apprised of
it, and the generals were often themselves deceived. General
Washington never placed unlimited confidence in any person, except
in M. de Lafayette, because for him alone, perhaps, confidence
sprung from warm affection. As the situation grew more critical,
discipline became more necessary. In the course of his nocturnal
rounds, in the midst of heavy snows, M. de Lafayette was obliged to
break some negligent officers. He adopted in every respect the
American dress, habits, and food. He wished to be more simple,
frugal, and austere than the Americans themselves. Brought up in the
lap of luxury, he suddenly changed his whole manner of living; and
his constitution bent itself to privation as well as to fatigue. He
always took the liberty of freely writing his ideas to Congress, or,
in imitation of the prudence of the general, he gave his opinion to
some members of a corps or State Assembly, that, being adopted by
them, it might be brought forward in the deliberations of Congress.

Winter at Valley Forge

In addition to the difficulties which lasted
during the whole of the war the winter of
Valley Forge recalls
others still more painful. At
Yorktown, behind the Susquehanna,
Congress was divided into two factions, which, in spite of their
distinction of south and east, did not the less occasion a
separation between members of the same State. The deputies
substituted their private intrigues for the wishes of the nation.
Several impartial men had retired: several States had but one
Representative, and in some cases not even one. Party spirit was so
strong that three years afterwards Congress still felt the effects
of it. Any great event, however, would awaken their patriotism; and,
when Burgoyne declared that his treaty had been broken, means were
found to stop the departure of his troops, which everything, even
the few provisions for the transports, had foolishly betrayed. But
all these divisions failed to produce the greatest of calamities -
the loss of the only man capable of conducting the revolution.

Gates was at Yorktown, where he inspired respect
by his manners, promises, and European acquirements. Amongst the
deputies who united themselves to him may be numbered the Lees,
Virginians, enemies of Washington, and the two Adamses. Mifflin,
quartermaster-general, aided him with his talents and brilliant
eloquence. They required a name to bring forward in the plot, and
they selected Conway, who fancied himself the chief of a party. To
praise Gates, with a certain portion of the continent and the
troops, was a pretext for speaking of themselves. The people attach
themselves to prosperous generals, and the commander-in-chief had
been unsuccessful. His own character inspired respect and affection; but Greene, Hamilton, Knox, his best friends, were sadly defamed.
The Tories fomented these dissensions. The presidency of the war
office, which had been created for Gates, restricted the power of
the general. This was not the only inconvenience. A committee from
Congress arrived at the camp, and the attack of Philadelphia was
daringly proposed. The most shrewd people did not believe that Gates
was the real object of this intrigue. Though a good officer, he had
not the power to assert himself. He would have given place to the
famous General Lee, then a prisoner of the English, whose first care
would have been to have made over to them his friends and all
America. (SEE CONWAY CABAL)

Attached to the general, and still more so to the
cause, M. de Lafayette did not hesitate for a moment; and, in spite
of the caresses of one party, he remained faithful to the other
whose ruin seemed then impending. He saw and corresponded frequently
with the general, and often discussed with him his own private
situation, and the effect that various meliorations in the army
might produce. Having sent for his wife to the camp, the general
preserved in his deportment the noble composure which belongs to a
strong and virtuous mind. "I have not sought for this place," said
he to M. de Lafayette: "if I am displeasing to the nation, I will
retire; but until then I will oppose all intrigues."

Expedition to Canada

(1778.) The 22d of January Congress resolved that
Canada should be entered, and the choice fell upon M. de Lafayette.

The generals Conway and Stark were placed under
him. Hoping to intoxicate and govern so young a commander, the war
office, without consulting the commander-in-chief, wrote to him to
go and await his further instructions at Albany. But, after having
won over by his arguments the committee which Congress had sent to
the camp, M. de Lafayette hastened to Yorktown, and declared there
"that he required circumstantial orders, a statement of the means to
be employed, the certainty of not deceiving the Canadians, an
augmentation of generals, and rank for several Frenchmen, fully
impressed," he added, " with the various duties and advantages they
derived from their name; but the first condition he demanded was not
to be made, like Gates, independent of General Washington." At
Gates's own house he braved the whole party, and threw them into
confusion by making them drink the health of their general.*

* After
having thus declared himself, he wrote to Congress that "he
could only accept the command on condition of remaining
subordinate to General Washington, of being but considered
as an officer detached from him, and of addressing all his
letters to him, of which those received by Congress would be
but duplicates." These requests and all the others he made
were granted.

[Here follow
accounts of Lafayette's expedition to Albany, and the Mohawk, and
his return in the spring to Philadelphia, where a short time after
Silas Deane arrived with the treaty between France and the United
States.]

By quitting France in so public a manner, M. de
Lafayette had served the cause of the Revolution. One portion of
society was anxious for his success; and the attention of the other
had become, to say the least, somewhat occupied in the struggle. If
a spirit of emulation made those connected with the Court desirous
of war, the rest of the nation supported the young rebel, and
followed with interest all his movements; and it is well known that
the rupture that ensued was truly a national one. Some circumstances
relating to his departure having displeased the Court of London, M.
de Lafayette omitted nothing that could draw more closely together
the nations whose union he so ardently desired. The incredible
prejudices of the Americans had been augmented by the conduct of the
first Frenchmen who had joined them. These men gradually
disappeared, and all those who remained were remarkable for talents,
or at least for probity. They became the friends of M. de Lafayette,
who sincerely sought out all the national prejudices of the
Americans against his countrymen for the purpose of overcoming them.
Love and respect for the name of Frenchmen animated his letters and
speeches, and he wished the affection that was granted to him
individually to become completely national. On the other side, when
writing to Europe, he denied the reports made by discontented
adventurers, by good officers who were piqued at not having been
employed, and by those men who, serving themselves in the army,
wished to be witty or amusing by the political contrasts they
described in their letters. But, without giving a circumstantial
account of what private influence achieved, it is certain that
enthusiasm for the cause, and esteem for its defenders, had
electrified all France, and that the affair of Saratoga decided the
ministerial commotion. Bills of conciliation passed in the English
House of Parliament, the five commissioners were sent to offer far
more than had been demanded until then. No longer waiting to see how
things would turn out, M. de Maurepas yielded to the public wish,
and what his luminous mind had projected the more unchanging
disposition of M. de Vergennes put in execution. A treaty was
generously entered into with Franklin, Deane, and
Arthur Lee, and
that treaty was announced with more confidence than had been for
some time displayed. But the war was not sufficiently foreseen, or
at least sufficient preparations were not made. The most singular
fact is that, at the very period when the firm resistance of the
Court of France had guided the conduct of two courts, America had
fallen herself into such a state of weakness that she was on the
very brink of ruin. The 2d of May the army made a bonfire; and M. de
Lafayette, ornamented with a white scarf, proceeded to the spot,
accompanied by all the French. Since the arrival of the conciliatory
bills he had never ceased writing against the commission, and
against every commissioner. The advances of these men were
ill-received by Congress; and, foreseeing a French co-operation, the
enemy began to think of quitting Philadelphia.

[Here follows the account of the
battle of Monmouth, after which Lafayette and Washington " passed
the night lying on the same mantle, talking over the conduct of
Lee"; and the account of the Rhode Island campaign.]

Soon afterwards, during M. de Lafayette's
residence at Philadelphia, the commission received its death-blow.
Whilst he was breakfasting with the members of Congress, the
different measures proper to be pursued were frankly and cheerfully
discussed. The correspondence which took place at that time is
generally known. The Congress remained ever noble, firm, and
faithful to its allies. Secretary Thomson, in his last letter to
Sir Henry Clinton,
informs him that " the Congress does not answer impertinent
letters." To conceal nothing from the people, all the proposals were
invariably printed; but able writers were employed in pointing out
the errors they contained. In that happy country, where each man
understood and attended to public affairs, the newspapers became
powerful instruments to aid the revolution. The same spirit was also
breathed from the pulpit, for the Bible in many places favors
republicanism. M. de Lafayette, having once reproached an Anglican
minister with speaking only of heaven, went to hear him preach the
following Sunday, and the words the execrable house of Hanover
proved the docility of the minister.

M. de Lafayette addressed a polite letter to the
French minister, and wrote also to the Congress that, " whilst he
believed himself free, he had supported the cause under the American
banner; that his country was now at war, and that his services were
first due to her; that he hoped to return; and that he should always
retain his zealous interest for the United States." The Congress not
only granted him an unlimited leave of absence, but added to it the
most flattering expressions of gratitude. It was resolved that a
sword, covered with emblems, should be presented to him, in the name
of the United States, by their minister in France: they wrote to the
King; and the Alliance, of thirty-six guns, their finest ship, was
chosen to carry him back to Europe. M. de Lafayette would neither
receive from them anything farther, nor allow them to ask any favor
for him at the Court of France. But the Congress, when proposing a
co-operation in Canada, expressed its wish of seeing the arrangement
of the affair confided to him. This project was afterwards deferred
from the general's not entertaining hopes of its ultimate success;
but, although old prejudices were much softened—although the conduct
of the admiral and the squadron had excited universal
approbation—the Congress, the general, and, in short, every one,
told M. de Lafayette that, in the whole circuit of the thirteen
States, vessels only were required, and that the appearance of a
French corps would alarm the nation. As M. de Lafayette was obliged
to embark at Boston, he set out again on this journey of 400 miles.
He hoped, also, that he should be able to take leave of M.
d'Estaing, who had offered to accompany him to the islands, and
whose friendship and misfortunes affected him as deeply as his
active genius and patriotic courage excited his admiration.

Heated by fatiguing journeys and overexertion,
and still more by the grief he had experienced at Rhode Island, and
having afterwards labored hard, drunk freely, and passed several
sleepless nights at Philadelphia, M. de Lafayette proceeded on
horseback, in a high state of fever, and during a pelting autumnal
rain. Fetes were given in compliment to him through-out his journey,
and he endeavored to strengthen himself with wine, tea, and rum; but
at Fishkill, 8 miles from head-quarters, he was obliged to yield to
the violence of an inflammatory fever. He was soon reduced to the
last extremity, and the report of his approaching death distressed
the army, by whom he was called the soldier's friend; and the whole
nation were unanimous in expressing their good wishes and regrets
for the marquis, the name by which he was exclusively designated.
From the first moment, Cockran, director of the hospitals, left all
his other occupations to attend to him alone. General Washington
came every day to inquire after his friend; but, fearing to agitate
him, he only conversed with the physician, and returned house with
tearful eyes, and a heart oppressed with grief. Suffering acutely
from a raging fever and violent headache, M. de Lafayette felt
convinced that he was dying, but did not lose for a moment the
clearness of his understanding. Having taken measures to be apprised
of the approach of death, he regretted that he could not hope again
to see his country and the dearest objects of his affection. Far
from foreseeing the happy fate that awaited him, he would willingly
have exchanged his future chance of life, in spite of his
one-and-twenty years, for the certainty of living but for three
months, on the condition of again seeing his friends and witnessing
the happy termination of the American war. Put to the assistance of
medical art and the assiduous care of Dr. Cockran nature added the
alarming, though salutary, remedy of an hemorrhage.

At the expiration of three months, M. de
Lafayette's life was no longer in danger: he was at length allowed
to see the general, and think of public affairs. After having spent
some days together, and spoken of their past labors, present
situations, and future projects, General Washington and he took a
tender and painful leave of each other. At the same time that the
enemies of this great man have accused him of insensibility, they
have acknowledged his tenderness for M. de Lafayette; and how is it
possible that he should not have been warmly cherished by his
disciple, he who, uniting all that is good to all that is great, is
even more sublime from his virtues than from his talents? find he
been a common soldier, he would have been the bravest in the ranks;
had he been an obscure citizen, all his neighbors would have
respected him. With a heart and mind equally correctly formed, he
judged both of himself and circumstances with strict impartiality.
Nature, whilst creating him expressly for that revolution, conferred
an honor upon herself; and, to show her work to the greatest
possible advantage, she constituted it in such a peculiar manner
that each distinct quality would have failed in producing the end
required, had it not been sustained by all the others.

In spite of his extreme debility, M. de
Lafayette, accompanied by his physician, repaired on horseback to
Boston, where Madeira wine effectually restored his health. The crew
of the Alliance was not complete, and the council offered to
institute a press; but M. de Lafayette would not consent to this
method of obtaining sailors, and it was at length resolved to make
up the required number by embarking some English deserters, together
with some volunteers from among the prisoners. After he had written
to Canada, and sent some necklaces to a few of the savage tribes,
Brice and Nevil, his aides-de-camp, bore his farewell addresses to
the Congress, the general, and his friends. The inhabitants of
Boston, who had given him so many proofs of their kindness and
attention, renewed their marks of affection at his departure; and
the Alliance sailed on the 11th of January. . . .

When I saw the port of Brest receive and salute
the banner which floated on my frigate, I recalled to mind the state
of my country and of America, and my peculiar situation when I
quitted France.

[Here follows the account of his warm welcome at Paris.]

Amidst the various tumultuous scenes that
occupied my mind, I did not forget our revolution, of which the
ultimate success still appeared uncertain. Accustomed to see great
interests supported by slender means, I often said to myself that
the expense of one fete would have organized the army of the United
States; and, to clothe that army, I would willingly, according to
the expression of M. de Maurepas, have unfurnished the palace of
Versailles.

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